


The Potion Master's Husband

by papayascents



Series: Crystallia Chronicles [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Age Difference, Conflict, Conflict Resolution, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fantasy, Food, Hand Jobs, Humiliation kink, Immigration & Emigration, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Light Angst, M/M, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, Racism, Teacher-student relationship (past), family issues (mentioned), wizard husbands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-17 17:46:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29229456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/papayascents/pseuds/papayascents
Summary: When Klaus Xam wakes up that morning, he expects a day like any other, filled with work and the company of his husband and fellow potions master Sylvester. But an unexpected and unpleasant visitor arrives to ruin the day, and it's up to Sylvester to make things right with Klaus again.
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Series: Crystallia Chronicles [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2146257
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4
Collections: Shousetsu Bang*Bang





	1. The Potion Master's Husband

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in [Shousetsu Bang*Bang Issue 77: Ordinary Magic](https://www.shousetsubangbang.com/mirror/frontpage/bang-bang-no-77/).
> 
> Please note that Klaus was an adult (26 years-old to be exact) when he became Sylvester's student. It was an apprenticeship rather than a schoolteacher/student type of dynamic, but I included the "Teacher-Student Relationship" tag to be on the safe side.

That morning, Klaus Xam woke from a dream in which he returned to his mother’s home. The herbs and flowers in her garden came to life and sang and danced to melancholy songs, and his mother gifted him with the tea set that had been passed down in her family for generations.

It took him a long moment to realize that he was lying in bed in Crystallia, not Vementis; that his mother had been dead these past three years; and that the tea set was lost, sold by his brother along with the rest of his mother’s belongings.

He lay there with his blankets half thrown off, listening to the rhythmic ticking of the clock on the night stand. What a strange dream to have. It left him with a clinging sadness, but he brushed it off after a few minutes and sat up, blinking bleary and crusted eyes. There was no point in dwelling on what had already passed.

Although the morning light streaming through the open window was still fresh, the day was already warm and scented with the herbs growing in a row of pots on the windowsill. Larger pots lined the walls and stood in the corners of the room, each with a different purpose: a snake plant for purification, golden mai flowers for renewal and invigoration, bamboo for steady health. Their branches spread like lacework against the light blue paint of the bedroom walls.

Klaus patted the spot next to him. It was cold, but before he could wonder where Sylvester was, his husband came through the door with two cups of tea.

He smiled and accepted the cup that Sylvester offered him. “It must be true that old people don’t need a lot of sleep. When did you wake up?”

“An hour or so ago. I didn’t sleep very well.”

It was rare for Sylvester to sleep well. He didn’t understand the concept of rest, always driven by the need to accomplish something no matter what it was. That was the most likely culprit as to why, at the age of forty-six, he already had a full head of gray hair. 

Klaus sipped the tea carefully, inhaling the earthy scent of roasted rice, before taking Sylvester’s hand and drawing him down next to him. Their scars and calluses, earned from long days working in the shed that doubled as their potions lab, overlapped as he squeezed Sylvester’s hand.

“You’re supposed to take the opportunity when there are no children in the house to rest, not keep working yourself to exhaustion.”

Sylvester sighed deeply. “Don’t bring it up. I’m working so I can forget that Bee’s all the way in Mokbon with that awful family of her mother’s, and Odette is wasting her summer at the Academy because of first love or whatever it is you called it.”

“You’re such a hard-hearted old man. Haven’t you ever had a first love?”

Sylvester waved his hand dismissively. “You’re the only person I’ve ever been in love with, and I’m pleased to say that it has only helped me improve upon myself, not become less discerning.”

Klaus’ heart fluttered at Sylvester’s casual admission, but he still smacked his arm and said, “You’ve only improved because I had the patience to endure this sort of mean-spirited behavior. Odette is a young person experiencing what most young people go through, and just because you can’t remember what that was like doesn’t mean it’s foolish.”

Curiosity lit up Sylvester’s face. “Does that mean you had a first love too? Wait. Was it me?”

Klaus sputtered and set his empty tea cup on the night stand. “Don’t be ridiculous, old man. I was twenty-six when I met you. I already had my first love long ago.”

Sylvester’s face fell. “Oh. Was it that friend of your father’s?”

Klaus suddenly felt too hot, even in his thin cotton pajamas. He had a vivid recollection of drunkenly telling Sylvester about his father’s friend and how he had been the first of the older men whom Klaus kept finding himself attracted to. That had been when he confessed to Sylvester, too, back when he was only a student assistant.

He hit Sylvester’s arm again. “Why are you bringing that kind of thing up first thing in the morning?”

Sylvester rubbed his arm, smiling in a way that was utterly unrepentant. “I thought sharing intimate details like that was what married couples were supposed to do?”

Klaus scowled. “We’re done sharing for now. Let’s talk instead about what work we need to finish today.”

“If you insist. The potion for Hugh Highgarden’s lungs should be done fermenting this afternoon, and…there’s something else I’m forgetting.”

“The brew Mallory Astamond wants for her husband’s indigestion.”

Sylvester wrinkled his brow. “Didn’t we give her one last month?”

“We did, but she says she needs something stronger. If you ask me, Gregor Astamond just needs to eat more fruit and vegetables, but they pay very well.”

“What a use of our magic,” Sylvester muttered. He heaved a final sigh. “Well, food first, and then work. Come join me in the kitchen soon, darling.” He stood up, collecting Klaus’ empty teacup, and departed the room.

Even after he disappeared from sight, Klaus sat in bed and listened to him clattering around the kitchen just down the hallway. Sylvester had only started cooking after he and Klaus married, and even five years after the fact he could hardly make a cup of tea without setting up a racket. Klaus fondly listened to him cursing and banging pots around before swinging his legs out of bed, ready to join his husband in the day’s rhythm.

*

Klaus took his time washing up and watering the plants before going to the kitchen, savoring the quiet that reigned in Milk Thistle Cottage now that both his daughters were away. When he went to the kitchen, he found that Sylvester had done more than make tea. He was stirring a pot of rice porridge on the stove, where a pan of dried sausages was already sizzling away. The table was set with plates, bowls, chopsticks, and a platter of sliced papaya and mango. Sylvester had rolled his sleeves up and swept his long gray hair behind his ear, the picture of diligence.

“Look at you,” Klaus said. “The only thing you used to cook on that stove were the potions that wouldn’t fit in the shed.”

Sylvester grinned. “Even an old man like me can learn new tricks.”

“Is that so? I wonder who that might be thanks to.”

Klaus took a seat at the table, eating papaya as he sorted through the letters that had come for them. There were the usual letters of admiration for Sylvester and his potions work—“As if I only stir the pots,” Klaus muttered—orders from potions stores that wanted to stock Sylvester’s patented brews, and requests from people to make personalized ointments and tinctures.

There was also a letter from Bee gushing about how wonderfully pretty and smart her mother was and how much she was enjoying her time in Mokbon, and one from Odette assuring Klaus and Sylvester that she was learning ever so much by staying the summer at Appleyard and Haysmith’s Academy for the Wise Arts and that she would come see them the week before term started.

“You’ll be happy to hear that Bee is doing well in Mokbon,” he called out to Sylvester. “Apparently Selena gave her cousins a, ah, stern lecture about treating her nicely and they haven’t said a single word to her since.”

“She should have done that from the beginning,” Sylvester said, voice dark with the familiar grievance. “She left Bee alone with those horrid people for years and didn’t even know what they were doing!”

Klaus made a noise of agreement. He hadn’t been there when Bee’s mother deposited her on Sylvester’s doorstep, but from what he could gather the girl had been shunned and looked down upon by her mother’s family. Something to do with her parents being unmarried and her father being Vinhese, even if he was a famous potions master. Klaus made a note to send Bee a package with her favorite dried fruit and guava chili jam so she would have something to comfort her even if her mother couldn’t be there to protect her.

“Time to eat,” Sylvester announced, bringing the porridge and a plate of the still sizzling sausages to the table. Next he set down a freshly made pot of rice, the grains perfectly fluffed and steaming in gentle puffs.

Klaus bowed his head over the food to give thanks before picking up his chopsticks. He placed a sausage on top of a heaping spoonful of the porridge and ate it in one bite, sighing with satisfaction at the way the mildness of the porridge contrasted perfectly with the grease and spiciness of the sausage.

Sylvester pushed the sausages closer to him. “Here. Old men like me shouldn’t eat so much grease.”

Klaus added more sausages to his bowl of porridge, but not without a sudden suspicion. The sausages were Sylvester’s favorite food, and he never sacrificed his food willingly. “You’re being very solicitous. Are you trying to make sure I’m in a good mood before you tell me something you did?”

“I’m taken aback, Klaus. Do I need a reason to do something nice for my husband?”

Klaus narrowed his eyes. “Not always, but often enough.”

“It’s nothing in particular—”

“Sylvester Ran, tell me right now what you’re hiding.”

Sylvester, looking very put upon, said, “All right, well, it’s nothing very big. It’s just that Florian Machemont is coming over in the afternoon. He has a new contract he wants to look over with me.”

The food soured in Klaus’ mouth. Florian Machemont owned a popular potions shop in downtown Carnelian, a few miles from Milk Thistle Cottage. Carnelian was Crystallia’s largest city and its capital, so Florian, like other shopowners in the bustling downtown district, helped customers every day who ranged from the average magic student to a visiting foreign dignitary.

He was a convenient middle man, but Klaus despised his greediness and condescension. He always had something rude to say to them, particularly Klaus, and he was forever trying to convince Sylvester to raise the prices on his potions.

“You know I can’t stand him,” Klaus grumbled. “It’s not as if there aren’t a dozen other shopkeepers carrying our potions, and a dozen who would line up for the chance.”

“True enough, but Florian’s shop is popular. Besides, he was willing to sell my potions before I became famous. I don’t see the point of getting rid of him unless he does something truly out of hand.”

Klaus shook his head in disbelief. If there was something he could never understand about Sylvester, it was his willingness to tolerate terrible people. Oh, he hated them, but he could smile even after Machemont said that his skill with potions must have something to do with being Vinhese (“What with your people still being in touch with the old ways, and all!”). Since he was an important business contact, Klaus had left the room before he gave into the urge to punch Machemont in the face.

He stood up, collecting the empty dishes. “Enjoy talking to him on your own then. I’ll be in the shed so long as that man is here.”

“Of course, darling,” Sylvester said, voice mild.

Klaus washed the dishes in a sullen silence. The very least Sylvester could do was say that he understood Klaus’ dislike, instead of acting as if he was an indulgent parent allowing Klaus the freedom to be childish.

Sylvester helped him dry the dishes in equal silence. Only when they were finished did he hold out his hand and say, “I’m sorry about Machemont, Klaus. I’ll get him in and out as quickly as possible.”

The golden summer sunlight spilled through the kitchen’s window, lining Sylvester’s hair with a soft glow. He smiled at Klaus, affectionate and hesitant in the way he was only with him. Klaus’ heart leaped; in the end, he would go anywhere with Sylvester.

“If he’s not out of here within half an hour, I’m coming in to kick him out myself,” he warned, taking Sylvester’s hand.

“I promise,” Sylvester said solemnly, and Klaus returned his smile at last, taking comfort in the tight twine of their fingers.

*

When Klaus had arrived in Crystallia five years ago, the garden behind Sylvester’s home had immediately captured his heart. Sylvester had bought the cottage after selling his first large batch of Perennial Stone, the potion that had transformed him from just another foreigner struggling to make their fortune in Crystallia to one of the most revered potions masters in the world.

The previous owner had named the home Milk Thistle Cottage for the plant that grew abundantly on its acre of land, and Sylvester had never bothered changing the name. What he had changed was the garden: by the time Klaus came to study with him, he had already re-shaped the overgrown land around Milk Thistle Cottage into a showcase of plants from across Crystallia and other countries, including his old home, Vinh Rua.

The garden was divided into dozens of sections, each encased within a protective sphere that mimicked different climates and weather. It was both a massive and intricately detailed piece of magic, and every morning Klaus and Sylvester checked the plots to see whether the climate spells needed adjustment.

The temperature had risen drastically in the tundra sphere and some of the plants were already wilting, so Klaus worked quickly to reweave the spell, reinforcing it with additional layers. The sensation of icy air embracing only his fingers while the rest of his body sweated in the summer afternoon still filled Klaus with wonder. He lingered after he finished repairing the spell, picking dead parts off the bearberries and diamond leaves.

Sylvester joined him there, giving an exaggerated shiver when he leaned over the sphere. “Aren’t you cold?”

“Not with all this sun shining on me. Besides, I’m used to this kind of temperature.”

“That’s right. It’s always this cold in Vementis, isn’t it?”

Klaus nodded. Truthfully, though, it was difficult to remember the exact feeling of the ice and wind in Vementis. He hadn’t returned since he packed his bags for Crystallia, and when he tried to recall the feeling of cold, he could only dredge up the memory of how relieved he’d been to shed his woolen coats and scarves in Crystallia.

Sylvester clicked his tongue. “I don’t know how your parents stood it there after coming from Vinh Rua. I had an option to study in Vementis on a scholarship, you know, but when I heard how cold it was I immediately chose Crystallia instead.”

It was rare for Sylvester to talk about his life before coming to Crystallia. Klaus knew that he had elderly parents he still sent money to, and an indeterminate number of siblings; but what Sylvester had done in Vinh Rua, what his life as a schoolboy had been like, were still shrouded.

Curious to know more, Klaus asked, “How old were you when you came to Crystallia?”

“Let’s see…” Sylvester tipped his head back, closing his eyes in thought. “I was much younger than you when you came here. About sixteen, I think.”

Klaus could hardly wrap his mind around the idea that Sylvester had already lived more than half his life in another country before Klaus ever stepped foot away from his home. That, more than Sylvester’s gray hair or people’s malicious gossiping, made Klaus conscious of the years that separated them.

“Do you ever miss Vinh Rua?” he asked.

Sylvester shrugged. “On occasion. It’s been so long that it doesn’t quite feel like home any more. But that reminds me: I was thinking that we should—”

“Sylvester! Klaus!”

Florian Machemont’s bullhorn of a voice cut off Sylvester’s words. Klaus scowled at the same time that Sylvester sighed. They both turned to see Florian letting himself into the garden’s side gate, as usual not even stopping to notice the myriad of colors and scents around him.

“How did I know I’d find you two out here?” he said, beaming with all the sincerity of a fortune teller without the gift.

“Hello, Florian,” Sylvester said. “How are you?”

“Quite well. Can’t say I have any complaints. I trust I wasn’t interrupting a private moment?”

“Oh, of course not. I know you’d hate to do something like that,” Klaus said, plastering on an imitation of the smile Sylvester used in “polite society,” as he put it.

Sylvester frowned at him and he gave a slight shrug.

“Good, good. Well, Sylvester, I believe we have business to discuss?”

Florian’s smile was beginning to turn Klaus’ stomach, so he turned on his heels. “I’ll take a look at the rest of the spheres and then get started on the Astamonds’ order. If you need me, I’ll be in the shed.”

“Thank you, darling. I’ll see you soon.” Sylvester kissed his forehead. The tender gesture failed to comfort Klaus like it usually did, ruined as it was by Florian’s beady, sunken eyes boring into him.

He tried to ignore the crawling sensation Florian gave him, but his voice followed Klaus down the garden pathway. “It’s good to see how diligent he is. Everyone was worried that you’d been fooled by a pretty young thing looking for a free home, but it seems he’s quite dedicated to the work.”

Klaus whirled around. “You—”

His throat closed up and his face burned. He couldn’t think of anything to say. Nothing seemed capable of taking the humiliation that Florian had just heaped on him and turning it back on him; it weighed down only on Klaus, making him feel as insignificant as the plants that Florian had ignored on his way in.

Sylvester’s voice was colder than the tundra as he said, “Florian, that’s enough.”

Klaus didn’t stay to hear the rest of his admonition. He stormed to the shed, yanking the door open and slamming it behind him with so much force that the walls shook. His entire body began shaking, but he made it as far as the work bench before burying his face in his hands and giving in, at last, to the tears.

*

Klaus didn’t know how long he sat in the shed. He just cried until the frustration had drained from his chest and left only an aching emptiness behind. He straightened up, drying his eyes on a clean hand towel and looking around at the one place in the house that belonged only to him and Sylvester.

A gas range, as big as any that could be found in restaurant kitchens, stood against the far wall. Cauldrons of different shapes and sizes sat on top of burners with the fire turned low, the potions inside them simmering away. Every cauldron was engraved with a spell to ensure that they would never boil over; Klaus had crafted those spells himself so that he and Sylvester could sleep comfortably in their bed rather than in the shed to watch over a potion that needed to simmer overnight.

In the center of the shed was the work bench were Klaus sat. It was stacked with books and notes and bottles of the ingredients they were using for the current batch of potions. The rest of the shed was no less crammed: bundles of dried herbs hung from the ceiling rafters and bookshelves lined the walls, groaning with the weight of textbooks, ingredients, and finished potions. In the afternoon sunlight, the potions in their glass decanters looked like liquid rubies, emeralds, and sapphires.

Klaus stroked his fingers along the work bench. The bench, worn smooth from years of use, had been there long before he arrived; it had come with the cottage when Sylvester made his purchase. Seeing it had comforted Klaus upon his arrival, and still did even now. It reminded him of the table in his mother’s kitchen, which was equally worn yet sturdy. He wondered if the table was still there, or if his brother had sold that as well.

He rarely missed Vementis. Life there had been claustrophobic, and despite his mother’s love there had always existed a gulf between them, riven by her inability to understand his restlessness and isolation. Sitting there in the shed, however, Klaus felt no less alone than he had in Vementis. The vice grip on his heart squeezed and he dashed away the tears that were forming once more, just as the door creaked open to reveal Sylvester.

“What do you want?” Klaus snapped, voice cracking. “Don’t you have something very important to discuss with Machemont?”

“I sent him away.”

“Did you now? Don’t say it was on my account. I wouldn’t want to be an inconvenience.”

Sylvester breathed deeply, the way he did whenever he was reigning in his temper. “I did it because he was a prick. And I also told him that our contract is officially terminated. After he sells the last of his current stock, there will be no more shipments of our potions.”

Klaus straightened up in shock. “You did what?”

Sylvester frowned. “I told you. If he ever crossed the line, I would—”

Bitter laughter burst from Klaus. “Crossed the line? Crossed your line, you mean. Has it ever occurred to you how many of my lines he’s crossed, Sylvester?”

“What are you talking about?” Sylvester’s voice never rose when he was angry. Instead, it became thin and tense, as ready to snap as a dried twig. “You wanted me to get rid of him, so I did. Why are you angry even about that?”

The words that had crammed in Klaus’ throat when he faced Florian found release now. “Oh, how very noble of you! _You_ allowed that leech into our home in the first place. _You_ allowed him to insult me every single time. He even insulted you, and I swallowed it all because you said that it didn’t matter. But now that you’ve decided that he’s said too much, you’ll finally send him away. How much more selfish could you be?”

For a long moment, Sylvester was as still as the ground after the first touch of frost. Klaus’ chest tightened unbearably and he doubled over, another sob heaving out of him. Now, no doubt, he would have to listen to Sylvester’s point of view, and the two of them would go back and forth until they were exhausted. Klaus didn’t know if he had the strength to reach an understanding this time.

Instead of launching into an explanation, however, Sylvester sat down next to Klaus and hugged him tightly. “Oh, darling. I’m sorry. I’ve been wrong all this time.”

Sylvester’s hand was soothing as he stroked Klaus’ hair, and despite his anger Klaus couldn’t help deriving an immense amount of relief from the familiar touch.

“You’re the worst, most self-important man I’ve ever met,” he mumbled into his shoulder.

“I know, I know. I’m sorry, Klaus. I won’t let Machemont, or anyone else, say things like that to you anymore.”

Bitterness and resentment welled up in Klaus. Sylvester knew, just like everyone else who gossiped about them, what people said about Klaus. It was unfair. True, he had left Vementis of his own accord, but it wasn’t as if he had come to Sylvester unwanted—Sylvester had invited him, first to be his student, then to be his husband. And if Klaus hadn’t exactly been a wilting flower about his feelings, then Sylvester hadn’t been the hapless victim the gossips made him out to be.

He had acted as more than a teacher, taking an interest in Klaus’ wellbeing more than anyone else ever had, allowing him to be a part of his family, needing him and wanting him because he didn’t want to be alone any longer. He still needed Klaus, for all the small and large demands of life, so why was it that Klaus was made to feel like an interloper?

“I’m not some clinging admirer. I’m your damn husband, and nobody ever wants to admit that it might be because I’m worth loving.”

“Of course you are,” Sylvester said. “I’m sorry, Klaus. I haven’t been protecting you very well, have I? I didn’t think about your feelings at all and let you be hurt.”

Klaus blinked back the sudden tears. For all of Sylvester’s selfishness, he was the only person who ever took the time to understand Klaus’ feelings and rectify the things he’d done wrong by him.

“It’s not like you can stop people from gossiping,” he mumbled.

“That’s true. But I can stop them from coming over and bothering us. I’ll put up a sign: No visitors allowed. Beware of dog.”

“We don’t have a dog, old man.”

“We can get one.”

Klaus snorted. “No. Can you imagine how chaotic that would be on top of Bee and Odette? Just put ‘Beware of feral children.’”

Klaus felt Sylvester kiss the top of his head. His breath tickled Klaus’ ear as he buried his face against his neck and said, “I’ll put whatever it takes, but I promise there won’t be any more people talking badly about you.”

“And you’re going to listen to me when I tell you that someone is a prick?”

“Yes. I will try to be less of a selfish, self-important old man. You’re welcome to encourage me with constant scolding. It seems to have worked wonders on me so far.”

They both laughed. Sylvester’s open mouth brushed against Klaus’ neck and he shivered. He was sensitive there, something he was woefully reminded of when arousal prickled across his skin. “Sylvester…”

Sylvester, ever attuned to Klaus’ reactions, started kissing his neck. The kisses were innocent enough at first, just a flutter of his lips against Klaus’ skin, but they soon became wet and open mouthed. Sylvester trailed his tongue from the base of Klaus’ shoulder to the tip of his ear, where he nipped and sucked at the outer shell until Klaus was whimpering.

“This is cheating,” he gasped. “You’re using your wiles to make me not mad at you anymore.”

Sylvester pulled away, blinking his large brown eyes. No matter how many gray hairs or wrinkles he lamented over, his eyes were still charming in their naivety. It was all a trick, of course, and one Klaus let him use liberally. “Weren’t you already not mad at me?”

“No, I am still absolutely livid. You’re going to have to work harder than that.”

“Like this?” Sylvester kissed Klaus’ neck again. This time, he used teeth, sucking hard enough on the skin that Klaus winced at the pain.

“Yes, like that. Do it again,” he moaned, heat starting to pool in his stomach.

For all his lecturing ways, Sylvester was eager to listen to instruction in bed. He licked and sucked down the length of Klaus’ neck, no doubt leaving angry red marks that Klaus would be able to admire even the next morning. Klaus clutched his arms, moaning loudly to show his appreciation. He could smell Sylvester’s familiar scent—mint from his shampoo and a heady mix of herbs from his potions—and it anchored him with a fierce joy. This was his, and no matter what anyone else said, Sylvester had given it to him freely.

“Touch me,” he panted, grabbing Sylvester’s hand and guiding it to his lap. “Come on, old man, make me hard for you.”

Sylvester’s sudden blush made Klaus’ cock twitch in interest almost as much as his hand. The only time Sylvester was embarrassed by their age difference was when they were in bed, and Klaus liked seeing him squirm when he brought it up. Thankfully, Sylvester also enjoyed being made to feel like a perverted old man, so Klaus kept teasing as he rubbed at him desperately through his trousers.

“Do you want to see my cock, old man? Is that what’s getting you excited?”

Sylvester nodded desperately. “Please, I need it.”

There was something about Sylvester pawing at his crotch, a perfect picture of the pathetic and lustful old man Klaus accused him of being, that made Klaus’ entire body heat up faster than anything else. His cock swelled and he thrust his hips up, hungry for more heat and friction.

“Take it out,” he demanded. “I want to feel your hand on it.”

Klaus could have come from the pleasure of watching Sylvester fumbling with his trouser buttons in his frenzied haste, but he finally managed to undo them and draw Klaus’ cock out. His hand was firm and calloused and Klaus tipped his head back with a breathy sigh as he stroked his cock from the base up to the tip.

“How do you like my cock?”

He tilted his head back in time to see Sylvester lick his lips and say, “I love it. It’s pretty.”

Klaus huffed out a laugh. “You’re really perverted. What do you want to do with it, old man?”

“I want to taste it.”

Klaus was momentarily jarred from the pleasurable haze that had fallen over him. Sylvester rarely offered to take Klaus’ cock into his mouth. On the rare occasions that he did, he seemed to enjoy it well enough, but Klaus had always wondered if he wasn’t as fond of it as Klaus was. He studied Sylvester’s expression closely. “Are you sure?”

In answer, Sylvester slid off the bench and onto his knees between Klaus’ legs. He looked up at Klaus, his expression of want and eagerness erasing all of Klaus’ hesitation. “I am. Please, Klaus, I need it.”

Klaus groaned, his cock throbbing. “Take it then. I want to see you eating me up.”

At the first touch of Sylvester’s mouth, Klaus shuddered. How long had it been since they’d last done this? He couldn’t remember; he and Sylvester were physically affectionate with each other every day, but it was all too easy to go for a week or two at a time without being intimate. There was always something to do or something to worry about, and sometimes after a long day of chopping herbs and stirring boiling pots Klaus fell asleep as soon as he lay down in bed.

It had certainly been long enough that the sensation of being taken into Sylvester’s wet and ready mouth had Klaus panting like he’d been teased for hours already. His arms shook as pleasure rolled down his spine in a relentless wave. Sylvester moved at an interminable pace. He stopped often to lick and run his tongue along the underside of Klaus’ cock, his muffled moans still loud. He looked filthy kneeling on the floor, eyes fluttering closed and spit trailing from his swollen, stretched-open lips as he swallowed Klaus’ cock.

When he’d finally taken as much as he could, he began bobbing his head up and down. The tight suction of his mouth as it traveled from the tip of Klaus’ cock down to the base made Klaus cry out and spread his legs wider. His arms were shaking too hard, so he sagged against the table and wound his fingers in Sylvester’s fine hair to steady himself.

“You dirty old man,” he panted. “I didn’t know you’d be so hungry for me.”

Sylvester whimpered. His face was pink and his eyes squeezed shut. He had his fingers wrapped around Klaus’ thighs, the nails digging in as he sucked and licked with a desperation that matched Klaus’ own. The thought sent a jolt through Klaus. Sylvester, who was always reserved and a little aloof, was so caught up in the pleasure of eating Klaus’ cock that he was heedless even of the loud, wet noises he was making. That was how badly he wanted Klaus: as much as Klaus wanted him.

“Sylvester,” he cried out, cock throbbing. “I’m going to come.”

Instead of pulling off like he usually did, Sylvester began teasing the tip of Klaus’ cock, flicking his tongue over it and sucking as if it were candy. He seemed determined to finish Klaus with his mouth instead of his hand, and it made Klaus’ entire body tremble with anticipation. His moans mingled with the sound of Sylvester’s eager licking in the confines of the shed.

Everything was so hot. His skin prickled all over and his nipples, which had hardened with arousal, rubbed uncomfortably against his shirt. Klaus’ head rolled back and his mind emptied itself of everything except an intense feeling of euphoria as he came, calling out for Sylvester loudly enough that anyone passing by their house could have heard.

Klaus let his hands fall from Sylvester’s hair and leaned against the edge of the table for a few moments until his breathing had evened out. He wasn’t trembling anymore, but his body felt boneless. Only the sound of Sylvester moaning made him sit up again and look down. He immediately moaned, cock stirring halfheartedly at the sight of Sylvester with cum dripping from his chin, hand working up and down his flushed and swollen length.

“Klaus,” he whimpered. “I need you.”

The words alone were enough to make Klaus get down on the floor, skin heating up again as he wrapped his hand around Sylvester’s cock. It was heavy and just wide enough for Klaus to get a firm grip. He wanted to take his time feeling every inch and licking the cum already leaking from the tip, but Sylvester was thrusting his hips up, his voice weak as he pleaded for Klaus to touch him.

“Tell me what a dirty old man I am, darling, please!”

“Adorable,” Klaus said, laughing. “Are you proud of that? Do you like being a pervert who enjoys eating a younger man’s cock?”

“Yes! You tasted so good, so good, I wanted more.”

“Look at this. My cum is all over your face and you want more?” Klaus smeared some of the cum from Sylvester’s cheek and held the finger up to his mouth. “Here. Eat it, you filthy old man.”

Sylvester leaned forward and lapped at his finger. His cock throbbed in Klaus’ hand so Klaus stroked him faster, making sure to angle his wrist the way that he liked. Sylvester’s mouth hung open, little moans and whimpers falling from it. “Klaus, Klaus, I’m going to come!”

Klaus squeezed his cock. “Let’s see it then. I think your cock would finally look impressive spurting all over my hand.”

Sylvester arched his back and came. Klaus drank it all in: Sylvester’s eyes screwed shut, his mouth slack, the thick white cum dripping over Klaus’ hand and onto Sylvester’s thighs to match what was already on his face. It was perfect, and it was only for him.

He gathered Sylvester into his arms and kissed his damp forehead, murmuring soothing words to him until his breathing had evened out. Then he urged Sylvester to his feet and straightened their clothing as best as he was able. “Let’s go inside and get cleaned up,” he said.

As they walked slowly back to the cottage, Sylvester muttering complaints about his knees, Klaus said, “By the way, weren’t you going to tell me something before Machemont interrupted? You said you were thinking about something.”

“Oh, that. I was going to say that we should go to Vinh Rua together and visit my family.”

Klaus stopped in his tracks. “What?”

Sylvester waved his hands. “If you don’t want to, we don’t have to. I just thought it would be nice to take the children and go. Bee’s been back to Mokbon now, but Odette’s never visited Vinh Rua.”

“No! I think…I think I want to. But won’t your parents be shocked?”

“Oh, no. They know I’m married to you.”

Klaus squawked. “Your parents know about me and you never even told me? What’s wrong with you, old man? Don’t you have any concept of communication?” He followed Sylvester down the garden path, yelling admonitions at him. “Do you write to them about me? What have you told them?”

Laughing, Sylvester kissed his forehead. “Just that you’re my husband and the most essential person in the world to me, and that I’m sure they’ll love you as much as I do.” He took Klaus’ hand in his. “Now let’s hurry, or Mallory Astamond’s going to pound our door down to demand that brew.”

They walked the rest of the way side by side, Klaus’ hand locked in Sylvester’s and his heart full with the promise of another day for the two of them.


	2. Bonus Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set a few months after The Potion Master's Husband. Klaus and Sylvester visit Sylvester's family in Vinh Rua. Things are hot, and then they get hotter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, this is just PWP.

Vinh Rua was hotter than any other place that Klaus had ever been. He’d thought that Crystallia was hot when he first arrived, but Crystallia was a temperate region with mild springs and lush summers. Vinh Rua was a stifling oven, even in the middle of winter, and humid to boot. Klaus felt like he was choking.

“I’m going to melt,” he groaned, taking the cup of ice water that Sylvester offered him and placing it on his sweaty forehead. They were resting in their room after a hectic morning of taking Bee and Odette to the beach. Klaus wasn’t even lying in the bed—he was prostrated on a bamboo mat on the floor, where it was a little cooler thanks to the wooden flooring and the cooling charms carved into it.

Sylvester sat cross-legged next to him. He was faring better than Klaus, but several decades of living in Crystallia had also left him unprepared for the heat. His white linen shirt was unbuttoned, and his hair, damp from the shower, fluttered as he fanned himself with a paper fan.

“I’d rather you not melt, darling, or I’ll have to mop you up from the floor and it’s much too hot for that.”

“I’ll probably evaporate in a matter of minutes.”

“And make this room more humid? No thank you. Here, sit up and drink your water.”

Klaus sat up and gulped the water without any grace. It was so cold that his gums hurt, but it did feel wonderful going down his throat. He drained the cup and set it on the floor. “All right, I’ll be preserved for a little while yet. How are the girls?”

“Odette is taking a nap and Bee was writing a letter the last time I looked in on her. I thought it was for her mother, but she already sent one off to Mokbon yesterday. Do you think she’s being overeager?”

Klaus lay down again, this time resting his head in Sylvester’s lap. The breeze from the fan tickled his face pleasantly. “Hmm, no. I think she’s made a friend at school.”

“Really?”

Klaus scoffed. “Must you sound so shocked, old man? All children make friends, you know.”

“I know that! But she’s always been so quiet and easily overwhelmed. It makes me worry about her. If she’s made a friend then I’ll be happy—so long as it’s not some miscreant, of course.”

“Bee has sounder judgement than you think. She’ll be fine.”

Sylvester frowned and stared into the distance. Klaus lay there and gazed up at him, letting him have a moment with his thoughts. This visit to Vinh Rua been good for him. The bags under his eyes weren’t as pronounced, and his skin was a deep brown instead of ashen. Away from his lab and the constant demands of being a renowned potions maker, he had relaxed and allowed himself to indulge in little pleasures like walking across the street to buy nuoc mia every day and sitting under the shaded veranda with Klaus in the evenings, their hands clasped loosely.

Sylvester looked down at him, and a bemused smile spread across his face. “Why are you looking at me so intently?”

“Because you’re handsome,” Klaus said, in all seriousness.

Sylvester’s expression grew pleased. Vain old man. Klaus’ affection was a happy buzz in his chest. “Even though the other day you were teasing me about my gray hair?”

“Don’t be dense. You know I think that makes you handsomer.” Klaus reached up and fingered the collar of his shirt. “And I think these Vinhese clothes suit you. You look more open and relaxed.”

He trailed his finger along Sylvester’s collarbone, and Sylvester shivered. Klaus suddenly felt much more alert and energetic. They hadn’t had sex since they arrived in Vinh Rua four days ago. Their days were packed with sightseeing and visiting Sylvester’s relatives, and even when they were at home, they were self-conscious of Sylvester’s elderly parents across the courtyard. But today his parents had gone to a friend’s to play mahjong, and even if they had been in the house, Klaus was hungry.

He sat up and curled his hand around the back of Sylvester’s neck, squeezing firmly. Sylvester’s eyes fluttered closed and he let out a soft sigh.

“Should I show you how handsome I find you?” Klaus murmured.

“Oh, yes.”

His eager acquiescence made Klaus’ skin heat up. He pushed him onto the bamboo mat, enjoying the way it knocked the breath out of Sylvester. “Strip,” he ordered.

Sylvester’s entire body was soon bared for Klaus’ perusal, with Klaus yanking his underwear off himself and tossing it aside. He stroked the soft skin of Sylvester’s stomach and squeezed his thighs, moaning at the pleasurable sensation of it. Sylvester panted and squirmed. He was getting flushed; his neck and chest were an adorable splotchy pink, which contrasted nicely with his dark brown nipples. His cock was still soft, but that was fine. Klaus had plans.

He spread Sylvester’s legs wide and settled between them, grinning down at him. “I changed my mind. The clothes suit you, but I think you look best like this. It’s very open.”

Sylvester’s cheeks were also pink now. “That’s very risque, darling. But, ah, what are you planning to do? I’m still…”

“Soft? That’s okay. I know an old man like you needs a lot of help.”

As always, the mention of his age flustered Sylvester. In most situations, his age was simply a fact—one which was the reason behind his knowledge, experience, and success. But when they had sex, those things didn’t mean anything. He was simply a lustful old man, desperate for a young thing like Klaus to lavish attention on him. Attention that Klaus was more than happy to give.

He crouched down between Sylvester’s legs and flicked his tongue over the tip of his cock. Sylvester jerked and cried out. Klaus hummed in approval and grabbed his hips, pushing him down harshly.

“Stay still,” he said. “I’m trying to help you.”

The embarrassment was plain to see on Sylvester’s face, and Klaus relished in it. He loved humiliating Sylvester, and the best part was that Sylvester allowed him to do so—he wanted to give Klaus this kind of power over him.

He said, “I changed my mind again. Sit up. I want you to watch me doing this.”

It gave him a thrill when Sylvester obeyed. Klaus bent his head and went back to the task at hand. He knew exactly what Sylvester liked, but he wanted more satisfaction out of this than simply touching him. So he didn’t take Sylvester into his mouth; he only used his tongue, and leisurely at that, lapping up the length of Sylvester’s cock like it was a sweet and then pulling away as soon as it began to stiffen. He knew it was wildly frustrating for Sylvester—he could only stay half hard like this, his cock softening in between Klaus’ fickle ministrations.

It was sweet to Klaus’ ears when he started begging. “Oh darling, darling, please. I can’t take it anymore. Don’t tease me like this.”

“Tease? I told you, I’m helping you.” Klaus squeezed his cock, then held it loosely in his hand, admiring the shape and weight of it. His mouth was watering to taste it properly, but he needed to wait a little longer. “It’s not my fault you’re an old man who has trouble staying hard. Maybe you should put more effort into it.”

It was a challenge each time to find the right words that would break Sylvester down, and Klaus knew he had done it when he saw his lips tremble.

“Please,” Sylvester said, voice wavering. “Please, if you would just touch me properly, I know I could. Or I could do it myself, if you want.”

Now there was an opportunity. Klaus sat back on his heels and studied Sylvester, all stripped down and humiliated for Klaus’ pleasure. His desperation was obvious: he would do anything to please Klaus. It made Klaus feel heady and hot all over.

“All right,” he said. “Go on then. Touch yourself.”

With a grateful moan, Sylvester took his cock in hand and started stroking. Klaus sat there and watched him. He loved Sylvester’s hands. They were large and strong, with scars and burns to mark his long career, and right now they were working for Klaus’ pleasure. He admired the sight of one of them wrapped around Sylvester’s cock, squeezing and stroking until it was hard at last.

Sylvester looked at Klaus pleadingly. “It’s ready for you now, darling.”

Klaus had waited long enough. Now it was time to reward himself. He knelt between Sylvester’s legs again and kissed the tip of his cock. “You’re a filthy, greedy old man,” he said, letting his hot breath fan out over Sylvester’s sensitive skin. “But since I feel sorry for you, I’ll give you what you want.”

“Oh thank you, thank you,” Sylvester breathed.

His voice hitched and broke into a sob as Klaus licked the underside of his cock. He flicked his tongue there a few times, drinking in the noises Sylvester made, before finally taking the tip into his mouth. Klaus moaned. Sylvester’s heavy, musky taste flooded his mouth, and it was blissful. He sank down a little deeper, then hollowed his cheeks out and sucked.

“Oh, darling.”

It was an endearment that Klaus had felt self-conscious about at first, especially since Sylvester had a tendency towards condescension. Now he liked hearing it—it felt especially dirty during sex, when it made Sylvester sound like the doting, pathetic old man he was.

Klaus lavished attention on Sylvester’s cock, generous now that he’d gotten what he wanted. He took as much of it into his mouth as he could and sucked until Sylvester was sobbing and clawing at the bamboo mat, then pulled off and licked him with long, lingering strokes, savoring the heat and taste of him until his mouth was wet enough to take Sylvester’s cock inside once more. Klaus ate his fill of Sylvester, and even the humid, languorous air in the room became part of the pleasurable sensation, magnifying the sounds they made and insulating them in a little world all their own.

“I want you to come in my mouth,” Klaus said as he pressed kisses along the underside of Sylvester’s cock. “You can do that much, can’t you?”

Sylvester bit his lip. He looked cute like that, especially with his hair matted to his forehead and his whole body flushed. “I…I don’t know, darling. I can try.”

“There, there. I know an old man like you needs some extra help. Let’s see…” Klaus reached between Sylvester’s legs and tugged on one of his balls gently. “How’s that?”

Sylvester’s only answer was a loud, drawn-out wail. Klaus couldn’t help the grin that spread from ear to ear. “Careful, old man, or everyone’s going to hear you. Come on. Sit here.”

He hauled Sylvester up by the arm and settled him on the edge of the bed. Sylvester seemed like he could barely stay upright: his arms were trembling and his knuckles white as he gripped the mattress. It was a much easier position for Klaus than before though, so he knelt in front of Sylvester and went back to work. This time, he also paid careful attention to Sylvester’s balls, cupping them in his hands, stroking and tugging lightly, always listening intently to see how Sylvester liked it.

He was like putty in Klaus’ hands. Klaus would have played with him for hours, but everyone had their limits. He knew when Sylvester was going to come because Sylvester tugged on his hair urgently and cried out, “Klaus, darling, please!”

The sharp pain in his scalp made Klaus moan. He grabbed Sylvester’s hand and guided it back to his hair, encouraging him to pull on it as he came. Thick, hot bitterness flooded his mouth, and Sylvester’s senseless cries of pleasure filled his ears. Klaus’ jaw ached, but he swallowed as much cum as he could. He felt greedy. He had worked hard to wrench this shameless abandonment from Sylvester, and he wanted to savor all of it.

Sylvester’s strength only lasted as long as his orgasm. Once it had subsided, he fell back onto the bed, breathing heavily. Klaus stood up, wiping away the cum that had dribbled down his chin.

“What a sight you are,” he said. He raked his gaze over Sylvester. Naked and sweating, sprawled out on the bed with his legs spread and his softening cock slick with Klaus’ spit and his own cum, he looked perfectly debauched. Klaus moaned and palmed at his cock through his pants, massaging it until it was properly hard.

He unlaced his pants and let them fall to the floor. Sylvester stirred, watching with interest as he took his cock in hand. “Klaus,” he murmured. “Do you want me to touch you?”

Klaus laughed. “Don’t you mean that _you_ want to touch me? You’re always so hungry for my cock. But I don’t want you to right now. Just stay there.”

He was so worked up from teasing Sylvester that pre-cum had already formed at the tip of his cock. It helped ease the friction as he started stroking himself, staring down at Sylvester all the while. Sylvester squirmed under his intense scrutiny, but he didn’t try to shield himself. He would give this to Klaus, too, and it was so good that Klaus could feel himself coming close to the edge.

“Sylvester,” he moaned. “Sylvester, oh!”

All the pleasure that had been building up finally overflowed, and Klaus came hard. His cum splashed onto Sylvester’s thighs and lower stomach. Sylvester flinched, but he still didn’t turn away. He only spread his legs and lifted his hips a little more, like he was offering himself up to be dirtied. Klaus gladly did so, and when he was finished, Sylvester was streaked with thick, white cum, utterly filthy and perfect.

Klaus collapsed onto the bed next to him, panting. They lay there side by side, until finally Sylvester said, “You’ve completely ruined the bath I took. Now I’ll have to go get clean again.” His voice was calm and even once more.

Klaus huffed. “Like you weren’t practically salivating for it.”

“Actually,” Sylvester said, sounding extremely didactic, “you were the one who was salivating, when you were licking my—”

Klaus grabbed the pillow and threw it over Sylvester’s face. “You are the most infuriating old man! Go take your bath then.”

They both burst into laughter that lasted for a long moment. When it had faded away, they got up and, without the need for any words, went to get clean together.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading all the way to the end! Below are the notes I wrote for this story when it was initially published: 
> 
> This story, like [Tiger Prince, Thorn Witch](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28437816), is part of a larger universe. Klaus and Sylvester are actually side characters in the world of Crystallia; the main characters are their daughters, Bee and Odette, and their friends. But that's another story for another day.
> 
> I was very excited for this issue's theme because I love writing about homey, everyday magic. My favorite parts to write were the ones about the garden (I'm very proud of coming up with its concept) and the food. To my surprise (because stories have a life of their own), I also got to talk a little bit about being an immigrant/the child of immigrants. That's important to me because you rarely ever see that in a fantasy setting, particularly secondary worlds. When you look at secondary world fantasies like Harry Potter or Game of Thrones, the characters of color are either visiting from another country or, if they're second generation or more, their experiences are never explored. So, too often, these secondary worlds are a white daydream in which only white people were responsible for founding, building, and contributing to the formation of a country--something which is absolutely not true. Of course, even the idea of a nation state itself is troubling, but that's a lot to unpack in one short story.
> 
> And yes, in case it wasn't clear: Klaus and Sylvester are Asian (the closest parallel to our world's ethnicity is Vietnamese). 
> 
> [subscribe to my author page for updates](https://archiveofourown.org/users/papayascents/profile)   
>  [twitter](https://twitter.com/78sodachan)


End file.
